


The Turtle-duckling and His Pond

by gaydaractivate04



Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [5]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Because I can, Fire Lord Zuko, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), I HAD TO COME UP WITH SO MANY NAMES, Ozai can go fuck himself, Protective Zuko (Avatar), Various Queer Folks, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, abusive ozai, and we deserve it, at the end tho, it was hard, of Zuko my dudes, outside pov, protective fire nation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27375193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaractivate04/pseuds/gaydaractivate04
Summary: It was obvious, the contrast between Prince Zuko and the majority of his family. As one often does a young child, Prince Zuko cried and yelled - not over anything serious, of course, just little things.Tears running down his face and lower lip wobbling dangerously after falling from a tree branch, one he wasn’t even supposed to be climbing. Shouting as he stormed away from his sister, a mocking laugh following him. Bawling loud enough to draw practically a cohort of concerned palace sentries when he nearly broke his ankle after slipping from his perch on a banister.Despite all of that, all of the prince’s anger and sadness, his explosive reactions and impatience with himself, Zuko would never take it out on the servants, nor any of the other staff in Caldera.Or: I couldn't resist putting a Zuko & Palace Staff story in this series. It just wouldn't be right without it.
Relationships: Zuko & Palace Guards, Zuko & the Fire Nation, zuko & palace staff
Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793116
Comments: 145
Kudos: 917





	1. If She'd Been Louder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gunpowder_and_pearls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunpowder_and_pearls/gifts).



> I know there's been a delay, and I'm sorry!! There's been some really shitty (emotional trauma?? in this economy???) stuff going on, so I had a few weeks where I couldn't muster the energy to write and kinda fell behind on a bunch things.
> 
> It's still around, said shitty stuff, but I have energy!! And am more angry than sad, so that's better, I guess.
> 
> Hope y'all are doing well! Hopefully no one is too anxious with the election coming up, but if they are, hopefully this will take your mind off of it (at least for a short while)

It was obvious, the contrast between Prince Zuko and the majority of his family. As one often does a young child, Prince Zuko cried and yelled - not over anything serious, of course, just little things.

Tears running down his face and lower lip wobbling dangerously after falling from a tree branch, one he wasn’t even supposed to be climbing. Shouting as he stormed away from his sister, a mocking laugh following him. Bawling loud enough to draw practically a cohort of concerned palace sentries when he nearly broke his ankle after slipping from his perch on a banister.

Despite all of that, all of the prince’s anger and sadness, his explosive reactions and impatience with himself, Zuko would never take it out on the servants, nor any of the other staff in Caldera.

There were no bruises or burns, no singed robes and pale faces seen when attendants exited his rooms.

The young prince sent his compliments to the cook, after  _ every _ meal, sometimes even going as far to stop by the kitchen to tell the chefs himself.

It was suspected to be a ploy to get more sweets or freshly baked buns, but if it was, he was widely successful in his attempts.

Prince Zuko could be regularly found in the Royal Gardens -  _ as well as in the surrounding greenery, nearby the flower beds of the Royal Florists, among the herbs used by healers _ \- following gardeners around, questions spilling from his tongue nearly too fast for them to keep up with.

Curiously enough, he never cried around his father, nor near his grandfather. The tears would dry instantly, gone not because of relief, but because of fear. Terror so potent -  _ yet so well concealed _ \- that any palace worker who saw him would have some inkling of who’d just walked by the prince.

Ruo, along with many other servants, noticed the poorly concealed burns surround their prince’s wrists, the way the boy would walk gingerly, as if afraid of falling, after he was summoned to speak with Prince Ozai.

Perhaps she noticed more than others, for as one of Princess Ursa’s attendants, she saw much more of Zuko than most.

She would be ashamed to her dying day of the fact that she did nothing to stop the clear abuse that was transpiring in their court.

Prince Zuko, for all his love of theater -  _ you could barely walk by him and Princess Ursa without hearing him speak of the newest play _ \- was a terrible actor. 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, oh, how he tried. But you can’t conceal fear like that, not when your face falls still and hands shake anytime the cause of it enters your view.

Ruo did her best to help the young prince, with slipping an extra scroll, an epic or a spirit tale, into his stack of study material. Quietly, so very quietly, trying to divert his attention to something more pleasant, every chance she got.

There weren’t many chances.

If she had stayed longer, kept her job as an attendant and slowly moved up the ranks, she might have been able to help more, in a more permanent way.

She’d known Prince Zuko since the day he’d been born, wiping Princess Ursa’s forehead with a cool cloth while she cried out and trembled, during that night so long ago.   
  


Ruo had been a silent fixture in the boy’s life since day one, and if she had been there after his mother had disappeared and his father took the throne, as his sister became even  _ better _ in Ozai’s eyes and he became  _ lesser, _ perhaps she would have been able to help him.

To save him from the pain.

Less than a year prior to Princess Ursa’s disappearance - and subsequent erasure - Ruo was ordered to pack her belongings and leave the palace, for she was ‘no longer needed’, as Prince Ozai had put it.

And so, like the obedient, quiet attendant she’d always been, Ruo gathered her things and left in the early morning the very next day. She didn’t look back once.

She didn’t look back, and she didn’t see the young prince watching from a window, his face drawn and pale.


	2. The Matron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one!! They be pre-written, btw.
> 
> Couldn't leave the word count at less than 700 words, it pained me.

Xiu Ying had worked in the palace for years, starting at the age of fifteen and scrubbing the floors until her hands were raw, chapped and bleeding despite the warm weather.

She’d always been a hard worker, whether that was while taking care of her younger brothers and inebriated mother, running for supplies to a nearby village or planting crops before anyone else was awake, before Agni had risen above the horizon.

Her effort did not go unnoticed in the hallways of the palace.

A quick promotion was all she needed to get her foot in the door, and then Xiu Ying was off, producing better work and climbing faster than any servant before. 

She went from a lowly privy cleaner, to washing the silk robes of lords and ladies, to preparing rooms of visiting nobles, before finally getting as high of a rank as she could -- Matron of the Household Servants.

After nearly twenty five years of serving the Fire Lord and his family, Xiu Ying had finally gotten where she wanted to be.

All new workers were brought to her when they arrived, sometimes even hired by her, and given their assignments in what she fondly called her ‘office’. It wasn’t really an office, with its cramped walls and small window, the desk and chair chipped and creaky, likely once furniture of a clerk, who worked in an upper level of the palace, rooms bright and well lit.

After all, you don’t want a clerk, someone you’d hopefully have around for a while, someone who was likely good at their job, to go blind from squinting at numbers in dim lighting.

The lord - one of the Fire Lord’s advisors - had laughed in Xiu Ying’s face when she’d first requested an office, a mere month after her promotion.

_ “Little girl,”  _ he’d said.  _ “Know your place.” _

Nevermind that she was nearly his age, nevermind that she’d had glowing recommendations to get her this position,  _ nevermind _ that she worked harder every day of her life than he ever had.

She’d gotten there through hard and perseverance, and she wasn’t about to let some lord with paper-thin skin and perfectly brushed hair tell her what she couldn’t do.

So Xiu Ying applied for that office over and over, sending in request forms every morning, backed by her peers who’d seen what she could do for them, until the man finally caved. He’d sneered when he’d shown her the office, but she knew she’d won.

And she accepted her victory with honor.

With an office, she’d have a stronger center for the household servants, a place they could come to for help or advice, whenever it was needed. 

Within a month, she’d reorganized the command system completely, taking out unnecessary positions -- and adding new ones, in a few instances. The servants were working more efficiently than ever before, in a safer environment than before, and she commanded them all with the rigidity and dignity of a general on a battlefield.

In summary, Xiu Ying took her position very seriously, and was not lenient to those shirking their duties. Nor, in any circumstances, did she allow the abuse of her staff, not if she could help it.

That was why she was striding through the halls now, lanterns dimmed and Agni resting, following the sound of crying.

It was the soft, hiccupping cries of a child, little sniffles puncating every pause for breath. They echoed through the space, meaning the person was likely in one of the many alcoves that dotted the halls.

This wasn’t the first time she’d gone walking through the palace, following the sounds of pain and misery. She knew where people took refuge.

The fact that it was a child, hiding among these halls, only made her walk faster.

She found the boy beside one of the many large vases that lined the halls, his head down and hair askew, hands clutching at the hems of his sleeves -- as though to avoid touching them to his wrists.

Xiu Ying could feel her blood beginning to boil as she neared, that anger she always had to desperately tamp down when in the presence of her superiors. Someone harming children in  _ her halls. _ She would not see to it.

It was only as the Matron neared, that she saw how fine the boy’s clothes were, fabric shimmering faintly in the dim lights, gold embroidery on the edges. Her heart was a stone in her chest as she crouched beside the child -  _ not in front, never blocking the way out _ \- and spoke.

“My Prince? May I be of assistance?” She kept her voice soft and gentle, a skill she’d cultivated after many years with younger siblings, then, skittish new hires.

Prince Zuko’s head popped up with a jolt, so fast the back of it slammed into the wall behind him, the boy scrambling to his feet, Xiu Ying rising to her’s with him.

She didn’t miss how tightly he continued to clutch at his sleeves.

The prince’s eyes were red rimmed, tear tracks running down his cheeks as he sniffed, lifting an arm to scrub at his face, fabric balled in his hands. His top knot listed to the side, as if someone had tugged it there, or a particularly hard hit had loosened it.

If she was a firebender, sparks would’ve been flying from her fingers, smoke leaking from her mouth.

It was a good thing, though, that Xiu Ying was one of the many nonbenders in the Palace’s staff, for Prince Zuko’s grip slipped for the barest of moments, his right sleeve falling back to expose raised, red skin.

Raised, red, hand-shaped marks, encircling the boy’s thin wrists.

Whoever had done this was  _ very _ lucky the Matron was not a firebender.

She kept that anger concealed, though, pushed that roiling rage down, deep down, smothering it with her concern. “My Prince, may I escort you to the Healers?” She phrased it as a suggestion, despite her urge to scoop up the boy and rush him out of the Caldera.

“No!” Prince Zuko’s voice was thick with tears, but his tone still managed to be that of a royal. Then, as if regretting his sharp denial, the prince continued: “I don’t wish to go to the Healers, I don’t need help.”

Xiu Ying only hummed, a considering noise. How to proceed -- that was the question. She didn’t wish for the young prince to go to his rooms, where he might be further injured. She didn’t wish to leave him in this hallway, though, not defenseless and alone.

After all, who could stop the Fire Lord from hurting his own son?

“How about you come to my office and I can share some of my burn salve with you.” She knew that her office would be the closest thing to neutral territory, and hoped it would encourage the prince to accept her offer. “It’s a special recipe, from home.”

The Matron knew how the Healer’s burn salve smelled, minty and medicinal, hard to conceal and easy to notice. Her own had a much more subdued scent, leaning closer towards lavender than mint.

“...Alright,” conceded Prince Zuko, using the heel of his cloth covered hand to wipe away the last of his tears. “But not for long, I have to get back to practicing.”

She began to walk down the corridor, her pace deliberately checked for the smaller person beside her. “Practicing? It’s night, my Prince, you should go to bed.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, the boy beside her scowling, his movements becoming stiffer, smoke curling from the fabric in his hands. “I need to practice. That’s more important than sleep -- I am not  _ weak. _ ”

The way the child spat his last word, with such self-loathing and venom for all his eleven and a half years under Agni’s light -- it wasn’t right. That wasn’t how a child was supposed to sound.

Xiu Ying did not answer for a long while, conscious of the ever dwindling distance to her office, her mind whirling as they walked. It was only once they’d gotten to her door when she spoke, turning suddenly to look the prince in his eyes.

“It is not weak to take a break and it is not weak to ask for help. Ever. You are only human, and you can only continue for so long.” She straightened from where she’d bent, opening the door without looking at it once. “You are not weak, Prince Zuko.”

She pretended not to notice as her prince’s eyes filled with tears, turning away to grasp for her tin of salve, placed at the top of one of her rickety shelves. How it had ended up there, she didn’t know, but at least there was enough left to treat the boy’s burns.

The Matron was gentle with her ministrations, as she always was with the injured and hurting, turning his arm this way and that, leaving a thin film ointment behind. 

She nodded in response to his quiet “thanks”, putting the lid back on and placing the container in a desk drawer, wood groaning and creaking as she forced it open.

Xiu Ying didn’t stop him as he headed towards the hall beyond, back to  _ practice. _ She only made him pause, just for a moment. 

“Prince Zuko?” she called.

He stopped in the doorway, eyes on the ground and arms tucked in close. She barely saw his nod, the listing top knot shifting with the movement.

“My door is always open, for everyone. You included.” 

The prince was gone before she could say more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!!! Lemme know what y'all thought!!


	3. He Burned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That's like...3 chapters in uhhhhhhh seven days?
> 
> I need to slow down, y'all are gonna get high expectations of me and then be disappointed when I don't update for two weeks.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapters as much as they enjoyed the others!!

Rani may have been new to the ‘pampered life’ of a palace guard, but he was no stranger to loyalty, to rules and orders. Nearly a decade in the Fire Nation’s navy had seen to that.

He was no stranger to everything that went on behind the scenes of a war, within the cells and in the bowels of ships, whether between torturers and prisoners -- or otherwise.

But  _ this. _

This was something entirely different, cruelty on a level Rani had never expected from the leader of his nation.

Let us back up for a moment. Let us look at this character, and know we need a bit more of his story, a bit more of Zuko’s story, to fully understand the gravity of what has just happened.

It started that morning, a war council called between generals, men who’d spent too much time away from the field and had begun to see men as numbers, not as living, breathing,  _ intelligent _ beings.

Rani had not been stationed at the doors, but at the entry hall, filtering guests and checking letters presented -- it was Princess Azula’s birthday soon, and lords and ladies were coming from their retreats and townhouses, joining the festivities.

No, he had not been stationed at the doorway; instead, he’d heard the tale from a younger recruit, fresh faced from the training field.

He’d seen how the teen’s hands had shook in the mess hall - whether in adrenaline or fear or both, it could not be said - and had leaned in, had tilted his head to better hear.

Had listened, and been made to put his fork down by his companion, for he’d been holding it too tight, knuckles white and joints creaking, in an effort to stay seated.

The Crown Prince, a boy who had not yet reached manhood, who could not yet rule his people, had defended common citizens from these snakes playing at generals. A prince who, by all regards, had been raised to be cruel, and was found lacking.

Now, this boy was to fight in the arena -  _ they call it sacred, but Rani knows that most of those pompous assholes wouldn’t hesitate to break the rules if it would serve them  _ \- against the Master he’d defied.

The general may have been old, perhaps too old to fight an Agni Kai, but he was still trained, still tested and forged on the fields of battle, no matter how long ago that had been.

Rani couldn’t push down his curling anger and anxiety and  _ fear, _ for this young prince, for the green soldiers who’d be sacrificed like lambs to slaughter. Like bait to sharks.

He saw on the faces around him, in the tension lining shoulders and bouncing knees under tables, he was not alone in these feelings.

A Royal Agni Kai would usually take longer to arrange everything, with the oils being applied to the competitors, gold bands tight around arms, waving banners and a roaring crowd summoned. It should’ve taken a few hours, should’ve been a sedated pace to things.

It had taken less than one hour to prepare, stands filled with lords and ladies and their children, torches bright and floors scrubbed clean.

Rani had been stationed at the entryway - and exit - of the prince, his armour freshly polished, greaves and buckles shining, sword in its sheath.

He’d watched as the boy had walked past him, as the boy had turned his back to the arena and crouched, ceremonial robe loose on his shoulders -  _ too loose, he was too small, too young for this _ \- the prince’s eyes fixed firmly on the ground, waiting for the duel to begin. 

He had watched as Fire Lord Ozai turned and rose, as he strode towards his  _ thirteen year old son _ and demanded that he  _ fight. _

When Prince Zuko kneeled, begged for his father’s mercy with tears streaming down his face, Rani was reminded vividly of his younger sister, back home in a village so small it didn’t have a place on his nation’s maps.

Her wide eyes and tear-streaked face when she was upset -- caught sneaking inside early morning, mid-fight with their mother when someone’s words went too far, after she’d found out her older brother had enlisted.

The young prince’s expression matched hers to a tee, though his had confusion and desperation warring over it.

As if Prince Zuko couldn’t comprehend what was happening, as his father neared and reached for him, reached for his face in a gentle way that conflicted the Fire Lord’s accusing words.

Rani was ashamed to admit that he’d shut his eyes, that he’d turned away as a scream rose over the  _ cheering _ from the crowd.

Half the applause -  _ chants and whoops were unbecoming of people of the crowd’s standing  _ \- was polite, barely there and fearful. For if they did not clap, if they did not  _ applaud  _ this terrible crime committed by the leader of their nation, they would find themselves being the target of the Fire Lord’s ire.

Medics had come rushing into the arena, a pair carrying what was practically a stretcher, something you’d expect on a battlefield, not at the Crown Prince’s first Agni Kai.

_ They should’ve been faster, _ was the only thought circling inside Rani’s heading as he’d forced himself to look, to watch the small body crumpled on the ground for breathing, a sure sign of survival.

They should’ve been faster -- the medics were trained better and always on hand in the case of something like what had happened, in the case of a life threatening burn during one’s defeat. 

They’d been delayed. Only seconds, less than a minute, but delayed nonetheless.

He’d forced himself to watch as they carried the boy out of the room, head lolling and completely limp, pulled far away by the unconsciousness brought on by pain.

Now, let us return to the present time, to where our character will make a decision, one that could cost him is life and that of others.

Let us visit this moment of change, of choice and action, and consider all possible outcomes and consequences.

You see, even in a nation, a war machine of souls being sacrificed, that seems whole and unified, there will always be dissent, there will always be opinions hidden behind a demure smile or a soldier’s faceplate.

Even in the capital of the Fire Nation, even in the Caldera, there are those who do not agree with the Fire Lord’s actions, those who do not believe in the propaganda that surrounds them.

Rani had never completely bought into the war, hadn’t been one to spout pretty words about ‘sharing their greatness’ and ‘natural superiority’. 

Yes, there had been a time, when he was idealistic and young, that he thought the war was a necessity, that the world needed it and it was the only way to advance, to become  _ better. _

He knows now that that was never the case.

So when Rani hears that the Dragon of the West will be taking the hatchling as he is kicked from the nest, he isn’t alone in trying to help.

He, along with other veterans who’d retired to guard duty, with the fresh faced recruits lucky enough to not be placed on the front lines, with the household servants and those in the kitchens -- they leave the palace in the early morning, while the stars are still blinking so far above.

With them, the workers of the palace bring non-perishable foods, blankets and furnishing that won’t be missed or noticed, extra bandages and burn cream, everything that can be brought without suspicion, and then some.

The guards at the gate they take - the servants’ gate, where less eyes watch - open it silently, not looking at a single person as they pass.

That way, they can say with honor intact and honesty in their voice,  _ “I didn’t see anything.” _

Rani knew that honor meant nothing among a world filled with power hungry fire-snakes, knew that it was unlikely any who helped the prince would live to see the next week.

The next morning, when he was pulled from the barracks, along with the women who’d been manning the entrance, he wasn’t surprised.

He wasn’t surprised when he saw familiar faces kneeling in the throne room; more than half of those who’d smuggled goods onto the Wani in chains, fear mixing with defiance and determination.

He wasn’t surprised when the Fire Lord presided over their farce of a sentencing and trial -- the ruler had already decided what he was going to do with them.

Rani met Agni with a smile on his face, farewells cast in the direction of his sister and her children, the knowledge that he’d helped the boy who’d tried to save his people building in his chest, until the warmth could almost have been that of a firebender.

Rani met his death with a smile, and did not waver as he burned.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also Biden won the election and I'm so fucking happy we don't have to deal with the orange fuck for the next four years)
> 
> (Biden isn't great but he's a helluva big step up from a racist, pedophilic orange)
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter!! (and that kinda fourth wall break, I hope that didn't feel random or anything???)
> 
> Lemme know what you thought!!


	4. Rust Bucket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Engineer Hanako -- short, loud, will shank a bitch
> 
> So sorry for the delay!! I hope you like it!!

Hanako wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when she received orders to pack her bags -  _ never mind that she’d only just arrived in the Caldera and had been looking forward to getting some Agni damned sleep _ \- and head to the docks.

_ Apparently, _ the Dragon of the West was calling in favors, and her commander jumped at the chance to get rid of her. 

The bastard could go  _ fuck _ himself. 

But, if she’d been expecting anything, it certainly wasn’t this shit show.

The ship itself was the size of a shoebox, offering very little privacy, the rattling pipes poor excuses for plumbing, the corridors narrow and portholes far too small to be up to code. And that wasn’t even to speak of the rust bucket of an engine the hunk of metal lugged around.

Really, it was impressive the entire thing hadn’t sunk beneath the waves as soon as it was boarded. 

And another thing about living on an excuse for a warship -- you see every member of the crew at  _ least _ twice a day, and you’re lucky if you don’t trip another person as they leave the showers.

That had been awkward. Hanako had seen far more of Lieutenant Jee than she’d ever wanted to.

Prince Zuko, strangely enough, was a rare sighting on the Wani, ducking out of the mess hall just as everyone else filed in, a steaming bowl of breakfast held in his hands, courtesy of Dekku, one of the few morning people in the crew.

The kid -  _ she hadn’t heard much about him before the day she boarded, she couldn’t care less about the royal family, but he was undoubtedly a kid _ \- still had bandages wrapped around half his face and sported a fucking terrible haircut.

She wasn’t even sure if his voice had started cracking yet.

Hanako hadn’t said a word to him in the long, tiring three weeks they’d been at sea, and she was fine with that arrangement. The prince gave her a nod whenever he saw her, few times though that was, and she nodded in return.

It seemed that the Spirits had other plans.

The morning had started off fine -- really, it had. 

Breakfast had been better than usual, as they’d finally found a port that would allow them to dock  _ and  _ restock, Dekku’s cooking was far better with  _ actual spices. _ Genji had said so, then laughed when his husband pointedly served him last.

The water was warm in the showers, the soap smelling of home. It was almost pleasant, listening to conversation as the crew warmed themselves, using a mixture of bending and tea.

Of course, that was when it all went to shit.

There was a rumble, then rattling in the walls, as though the pipes were shaking in their fixtures, as though the ship was crumbling from the inside.

Hanako was on her feet with a curse, beating the others to the door -- they were going to the deck and cabins to secure loose cargo, she was saving their asses. Breakfast was abandoned as she sprinted down the hall, heavy duty boots thundering on the stairs as she raced down to the engine room.

Smoke, thick and black, billowed from beneath the door.

Instinctually, she pulled her shirt over her mouth and nose, the soot stained scarf she usually used hanging from her bunk.

_ Agni damn it, _ it was supposed to be a slow day.

As it turned out, the engine went into what was essentially cardiac arrest, leaving Hanako to act as the sparks to start its heart again. It took two hours,  _ two damn hours,  _ filled with curses and suffocating smoke and wrenches turned nearly white hot by the hunk of metal masquerading as an engine.

Dekku was at the end of the corridor when she emerged, a scarf of his own wrapped around his face, smoke still lingering in the air. The ventilation system was the  _ worst _ and Hanako had warne the crew to take precautions when visiting the lower levels.

Actually, on second thought, that was  _ Genji’s _ scarf. Dekku’s was red, not black.

The chef passed her a canteen without asking and she caught the sharp smell of alcohol moments before she took a gulp. 

“You’re my saviour,” she said, in lieu of  _ thank you. _ Spirits, her voice was shot. Hoarse and raspy -- that’s what you get after inhaling smoky air the whole morning. 

Dekku shrugged, leading her upstairs with nudges and gentle tugs, sure where she stumbled. 

Along with lung damage - though it affects firebenders less - she also got shit eyesight after squinting at glowing coals for half her life.  _ Ah, benefits. _

“I’m taking you to Satomi, she wants to take a look at you.” Dekku’s tone was no-nonsense, brooking no argument or protest.

Hanako protested anyways. “I’m  _ fine, _ nothing a shower and some more of this,” she punctuated the words with a wiggle of the canteen. “Won’t fix.”

“Can you take a deep breath without coughing?”

All she could do was prove his point. “Fine.”

  
  


_______________

  
  


Technically, she wasn’t back to work. Hanako was just doing some...fine tuning, if you will. Some minor adjustments, as was necessary. It was harmless, she wasn’t even fucking with the coal distribution, much like she wanted to.

The argument wouldn’t hold against Satomi, but Satomi wasn’t in the engine room and neither was Dekku, that  _ snitch. _

He’d already caught her heading down here once, and had sent her to her cabin under the stern eyes of Lieutenant Jee. It only took faking sleep for half an hour before the check ups ceased and she was left in peace.

It wasn’t like she  _ wanted _ to come down here. The alternative, however, was the possibility of the ship blowing itself up in the middle of the ocean, filled with both benders and nonbenders.

Hanako had gotten the engine into well enough shape in her first response, but it still needed a shit ton more work before it was considered  _ safe. _

She’d expected to be alone, with the glow of coals and woosh of steam to be her company, so she could not be blamed for the instinctive flinch and curse when a figure moved in her peripheral vision, the wrench in her hand raised as she turned.

Wide, gold eyes met hers -- actually, check that. One wide gold eye met her pair and she found herself staring at the prince, who was - for once - not dressed in armour, what looked to be the thick, extra-fire retardant tunic and pants of an engineer.

“Spirits, you scared me. Why the fuck were you standing there like that?” Hanako lowered the wrench, huffing as she turned back to the piping she’d been working on. “Can’t just loom in the corner, you’re gonna get clocked.”

The kid didn’t say anything, just stared at her, at her tools, at the embers and sparks flickering nearby.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Look, she wasn’t trying to be an asshole. But if the kid made  _ one _ judgmental look, said  _ one _ demeaning thing while he was the only person on this Agni damned boat who didn’t have to do  _ shit, _ she was going to kick him out of the engine room. Prince, or not.

“You’re the only engineer.” It was a statement, a fact, spoken in a voice so raspy she might've thought  _ he _ had been the one in here for two hours.

“Yeah, what of it?” She readied herself for the  _ ‘a young woman like you, with family from the colonies...are you sure you're capable?’  _ speech. The kid seemed a fine person, but you could never tell with royalty. You could never tell with the privileged.

“How do you do it?”

“How do I...what?” Hanako was thrown, she was stumbling, she’d tripped down the stairs of Conversation and wasn’t sure how to get up again. That was  _ not _ what she’d been expecting.

“You thought I’d say something else.” The kid said, slowly taking a step closer, farther from the door and closer to her and her wrench. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I did. I expected you to be an ignorant asshole.” Hanako smirked, the expression shifting to a grin as the kid stared back incredulously. He likely hadn’t heard that before, at least not to his face and not from someone ‘beneath’ him. “Wanna learn?”

A wrench, twin to the one beside her, was offered, coated in soot from the earlier usage.

She honestly hadn’t thought he’d take it -- it seemed the prince was set to impress her as many times as possible in as little time as possible.

Metal met hand, ash and dust met pale skin. 

Hanako patted the ground beside her as she dropped into a crouch, rooting in the bag at her feet while footsteps scuffed closer. She heard the kid kneel beside her, felt the tension thrumming through him, poised and ready to run.

Whoever had burned him had fucked him up thoroughly.

Slower than her usual movements, she thrust a scarf in his direction, pointedly not paying attention as he took it and wrapped the fabric around his lower face, fumbling more than once.

“Ever worked on an engine, kid?” 

The prince shook his head.

“This right here is the crankshaft, and it connects to the…”

Not all royalty was bad, after all. The kid was growing on her.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays, motherfuckers.


	5. Captain Izumi Is Scary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finals are a week away from kicking my ass, so I decided to put this out before then.
> 
> I hope y'all's New Year has been good, or at least is getting good! This year has to be better than the last...really, nothing can top 2020.
> 
> Also: As many people asked for her return, we have a couple cameos from Xiu Ying, with plans for her to be more involved in other stories.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to gunpowder_and_pearls, my beta, as they bugged me to write a more in depth scene of Chen, Shao, and Zuko's nightmare (mentioned in Amb. Sokka vs the Turtleducks)

Chen had been one of the few young men in his village to avoid conscription. Some people - _friends, soldiers, mothers and fathers proud to give their children up for the Fire Nation_ \- sneered at him, called him weak or dishonorable.

The facts were this:

Chen’s father had been friendly with the local recruitment officers, his mother had been close to the woman in charge.

His parents had died of sickness during the last harvest, leaving Chen to care for two younger sisters and a toddler for a brother.

The recruitment officers were sympathetic, and were kind enough to remove Chen from their lists - _it was not recruitment, not really, not if you didn’t have a choice_ \- citing how _honorable_ his parents had been, and how they’d hate to see their children not make it through the war.

Things like that had always been said -- at the end of the war, after the war, once this is all over, as if the war hadn’t been raging one for a hundred years with little sign of stopping. Only the inevitable takeover of the Earth Kingdom and destruction of both Water Tribes would please the Fire Lord.

Death, destruction, _genocide._ All inescapable futures, with no chance of changing course.

At least, that was what Chen used to think.

Then the Avatar returned, the Fire Prince became Fire Lord, and the world began to find its way to _balance,_ for the first time in a century.

Fire Lord Zuko had been in power for three months when Chen applied to work as a Palace Guard, and he’d been four months into his reign when Chen got his papers, his _approval_ back.

His sisters now grown, one living with her husband and taking responsibility for their youngest brother, while the second eldest moved in with a ‘close friend,’ as was the phrase.

They didn’t leave much behind, the four of them, just a house to be gifted to a pair of newly-weds, a small picken coop beside it, and an old apple tree that gave more leaves then it did fruit.

Chen had a grand total of one bag - more of sack, really - when he arrived at the Fire Nation capital. His passenger ship had arrived early that morning, and he’d spent much of the day exploring, picking up little things from the market to send to his siblings and noting the stalls that carried food he recognized.

After all, he wasn’t supposed to report to the barracks until midafternoon, and the capital was much more exciting, much louder, than the village he’d left behind.

  
  


_______________

  
  


Captain Izumi of the Royal Guard was absolutely terrifying.

He really hoped she didn’t have any hard feelings from that morning, when he’d knocked into her, running to his shift at the outer gates, and caused them both to fall down the stairs.

  
  


_______________

  
  


The New Fire Lord, Zuko, is far less intimidating than what Chen has heard the previous one was like. As a guard mostly stationed on the outer walls, and occasionally at the doors to the entry hall, he saw very little of him.

But, when he does see him, Fire Lord Zuko is often tired and strained looking, crown off center as he strides through the hallways, surrounded by equally harried ministers and attendants, in constant discussion.

Once, Chen thought he saw the man while on his way to the kitchens late at night - _Sumi had sent him to get a pot of tea for the Head of the Household Servants_ \- but the lights had been dimmed, and it had only been a quick glimpse -

However, he knew there were no others in the palace with such scars on their faces, and despite the loose hair, the bare feet, and simple clothing, the Fire Lord was an easily recognizable man.

  
  


_______________

  
  


Scratch that, the Fire Lord was even scarier than the captain of his guard -- though by a slim margin.

An assassin had gotten into the palace in the dead of night, had slit the throats of the guards at the Fire Lord’s door, and had nearly done the same to Fire Lord Zuko.

Despite everything their leader was doing to help the world, to return balance, to make the Fire Nation truly great despite its last hundred years of destruction, there were still those who thought his actions were _weak._

There were still those who thought saving lives was what war did.

Apparently, those people’s solution was to rid the throne of the Sozin line, starting with their Fire Lord.

Chen, along with the three other guards who’d heard their ruler’s shout, had raced down the hall, heart thundering and climbing in his throat as they found the bodies of the night guard and a locked door.

It had taken three solid kicks to break the door, an older guard adding the force of his flames to each strike.

The assassin was a firebender -- _had_ _been_ a firebender, with the scorch marks that scattered the walls and bed. At the moment, his smoking corpse was splayed on the floor in the royal chambers, the smell of burnt cloth, burnt hair, _burnt human_ filling the room.

The Fire Lord was still in his sleep clothes, his hair down and crown set aside. He stood above the would-be assassin, hands still held out, covered in what could only be _ash and burnt skin-_

_Hands, shaking and shaking and shaking-_

Chen was moving before he knew what he was doing, gesturing for woman nearest to him to follow. Gently, carefully, he took the Fire Lord’s wrists in his hands, lowering them as he stepped between his ruler and the body.

Fire Lord Zuko’s eyes were so wide, and his face was so, _so_ pale.

In the voice he used when speaking to his youngest sister when she got what they deemed ‘quite panics’, Chen asked, “Fire Lord Zuko? Can we leave the room?” He knew the man might not answer, knew it was a long shot -

But he didn’t know what he was doing anyways, and it was always better to ask permission then ask nothing.

“I…” Fire Lord Zuko’s voice was hoarse, raspier than he’d ever heard, and the man trailed off before starting again. “I held him down. And- and I burned him.” 

Chen didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what reassurances would work and what would make it worse. So, instead, he just went with the facts. “You saved yourself. He would’ve killed you, like the guards at your door.”  
  


Slowly, Chen began to pull the Fire Lord with him towards the door, the woman who’d come with him moving to stand in front of the corpse, blocking the view of it should their ruler turn to look.

The other two sentries had moved the bodies to the side, more members of the Palace Guard filling the hallway, half dressed Royal Guards scattered among them. They parted easily as the pair of them passed, not once questioning where the rookie was taking the Fire Lord.

He saw Captain Izumi at the end of the hall, running towards the commotion, and made a beeline to her. 

She’d know what to do. She’d tell him what to do with the Fire Lord shaped package he was gently tugging beside him.

His captain met them with a sharp tone and wide eyes, a scattered portrayal of calm. “What happened?”

Chen’s response was just as to the point, not wanting to draw it out without reason. “Firebender assassin. The two stationed at the door are down, Fire Lord Zuko stopped him inside.”

He saw Captain Izumi’s eyes flicker from Zuko’s face to his hands, still trembling and filthy, held loosely in Chen’s grip. He waited for her next words, for her orders to help with clean up or to retrieve someone from their rooms, to leave the Fire Lord with her, with someone better suited for the job.

Instead, what next came out of her mouth was: “Help him wash up, and take him to Xiu Ying’s office. Stay with them until I tell you otherwise.”

Chen allowed himself one moment of panic, one moment of wide eyes and open mouth, before he nodded, acknowledging the orders and turning back to their Fire Lord, who watched the proceedings with hazy eyes.

Somehow, with a gentle voice and soft tugs, Chen managed to get the leader of his nation to the office of the Matron, who opened her door without needing a knock. He stayed, for the three and a half hours it took for a message to arrive from Captain Izumi, dismissing him and reporting the palace clear of any other perpetrators.

He left Fire Lord Zuko in the capable hands of Xiu Ying, with a promise to return the next day for tea. 

He wasn’t sure how he made it back to the barracks, but he did, and awoke the next morning to his shoulder being shaken, a messenger standing above him with a harried expression and crumpled note. He’d slept barely three hours, and reread the message twice before he understood it.

Captain Izumi had promoted Chen to the Royal Guard, leaving him twenty minutes to change his uniform and report for his first shift.

  
  


_______________

  
  


Fire Lord Zuko had strange hours. Hence, the guard changed in the early morning, resulting in Chen waking up at half past one and reporting for duty at two. His shift ended just before the midday meal, after which he went to eat, relax, and sleep for the next fourteen hours.

He’d been on this rotation for the last year and a half, ever since that terrifying night with the assassin.

At the very least, the Fire Lord was awake from nightmares, not murder attempts.

It really wasn’t much better, with how shaky Zuko was when he opened his doors, stepping quickly into the torchlight, scanning the hall with wide eyes and clenched fists, ready for an enemy that never appeared.

This night, it seemed, was worse than usual.

Chen and Shao, an inexperienced firebender who’d been put on rotation with Chen to prepare for a permanent post, were on duty and followed the Fire Lord through the halls, silent and echoing at such an early hour.

Fire Lord Zuko seemed lost in thought - _it was unlikely they were pleasant thoughts_ \- as he shuffled in the direction of the gardens, arms wrapped tight around his torso and head bowed, a moment of weakness only seen by his personal guards.

Usually, even while reading a report or carrying an in-depth conversation with the minister of agriculture, His Majesty deftly avoided collisions and obstacles, often before anyone else had noticed the problem approaching.

One is in a very different state of mind after waking up shaking and sweating, after needing to prowl the halls because staying still makes the quiet panics _so much worse._

The Fire Lord was walking straight at a fountain, the fixture protruding from the wall and low to the ground -- meant for dipping feet in or washing soot from the soles of shoes. It was a disaster, a broken arm or broken ankle, moments from happening.

Moving quickly, Chen lunged forward and grabbed Fire Lord Zuko’s shoulder, knowing it was unlikely the man would hear him if he called out. He went to pull him back, maybe shift him to the side and apologize from the disruption, gently remind his ruler to watch where he walks -

Before he got a chance to do any of these things, to do any more than grab a red clad shoulder, Chen was slammed against the wall, so fast the movement was little more than a blur -

A hand was at his throat, warmer than even firebenders run, and the carvings on the wall dug into his spine, his feet were barely touching the ground as the hand lifted him higher and higher, and Chen found himself staring into the eyes -

Staring into the eyes of Fire Lord Zuko, the gold unusually bright as the man snarled, sparks curling from behind his teeth, the heat in his hand throbbing against Chen’s life blood.

Behind the Fire Lord was the sound of footsteps, drawing up short as gasps cut through the thick silence that had settled over the moment. 

Chen forced his eyes away from the gold gaze boring into his, only for a moment, letting himself glance at those who’d arrived before returning to watching the only threat, the only real _danger_ in the room.

Two others who’d been one duty, regular palace guards, stood beside Shao, eyes wide and faces pale. Their hand hovered near the hilts of their swords, but they did not draw them, looking instead to the Fire Lord for orders.

The Fire Lord, who’d sworn that he’d never harm an innocent, never strike or burn a member of his staff, holding a guardsman by his throat to a wall.

Despite himself, despite his undeniable loyalty and the certainty that Fire Lord Zuko was _not_ like his father, he couldn’t quite force away the thought of _what if today’s the day? What if it was one disrespect too many?_

Carefully, Chen swallowed, mindful of the flames less than a thought away from searing him, and spoke.

“Fire Lord Zuko.” He tamped down on the whirling panic that was his thoughts, forcing himself to speak clearly and coherently. “You are in Capital City. It is just after three in the morning. Agni has not risen yet. You are safe.”

There wasn’t any sort of response until the end of his little speech, until the last sentence, the Fire Lord’s grip loosening for a second before it tightened again.

Chen was treading in unknown territory. The Fire Lord was not having a quiet panic, he was not shaking or gasping -- the man’s gold eyes were empty even as his face was twisted in a snarl.

He hoped that His Majesty was just confused and disoriented, just startled, because if he wasn’t...well, Chen certainly wasn’t going to last much longer than the night.

The penalty for attacking the Fire Lord was _death._

And this wouldn’t be the first time someone had been executed because of a mistake.

Chen tried again, though he couldn’t quite keep the panic from his voice as he felt drag on his inhales, the grip on his throat just shy of suffocating. “You are in the capital. You are safe, you are safe, you are _safe_ -”

The moment Fire Lord Zuko came back to himself was audible, immediate. Chen was dropped as his ruler stumbled back, his knees slamming into the stone as he sucked in unrestricted breath after unrestricted breath.

The Fire Lord was apologizing, frantically, the words bleeding into each other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Agni- I don’t know how that happened, I’m so sorry.”

Chen did his best to wave him off from his position on the floor, but his reassurance mustn’t have been very reassuring, as the apologies did not slow or stop. 

Mindful of his newly sore knees, Chen pushed himself to his feet, bracing one arm on the wall he’d previously been held against, fighting for balance. “I’m-” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and spoke again. “I’m fine. I’m alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

If someone had told his child self that, one day, he’d be comforting the Fire Lord at three in the morning, he would’ve laughed in their face.

Thankfully, his terrible attempts at calming the Fire Lord were soon replaced by the capable Xiu Ying, and he was escorted away to the healing hall to be checked for long lasting injuries.

  
  


_______________

  
  


_It was an apology,_ Chen told himself, as he stared down at the small, unassuming slip of paper in his hand. _They’re not trying to get rid of you._

He wasn’t sure he managed to convince himself.

Well, he couldn’t visit his siblings anyways, even with the two weeks of paid leave to do it. Ahmya had her new baby to take care of, and he’d just get in the way. Kiyo, his youngest sister, had just secured a job as a researcher in one of the new facilities that had sprung up with Zuko’s reign, he didn’t want to distract her.

Tora was off at an academy, one that included food and boarding, and promised a _very_ good education for the children enrolled. He didn’t want to disrupt that and, honestly, had no idea where he’d stay if he went.

Besides, he couldn’t just... _leave,_ and leave Fire Lord Zuko with the idea that he’d hurt Chen or traumatized him.

The Head of the Healing Halls had told him the burn that encircled his throat, though minor it was, still counted as an injury when Chen had been a bit _too_ flippant about it. He’d spent his childhood years pissing off doctors, he wasn’t surprised that skill had carried into his adult years.

Instead of packing his bags, boarding the fastest ship to take him the two day trip to his sisters, and relaxing for two weeks, Chen went to find Sumi. The other guard was always up for a good spar.

That was how Fire Lord Zuko next saw him, sweaty and tired in the morning sun, Sumi wielding her staff against his practice swords. The man looked terrible, pale and drawn, dark circles beneath his unscarred eye.

He stood at the edge of the practice yard, dressed in the more traditional day robes of his position. Chen couldn’t help but pause and turn to face him, signalling to Sumi the end of the match, when he saw him enter his peripherals. 

The explanation, perhaps the apology, that had been building dried up before it could leave his throat. That wasn’t what Fire Lord Zuko needed, he could tell.

Instead, Chen smiled, wide and guileless, hoping it masked the concern lining the rest of him well enough. “My apologies, your Majesty. I like my job too much, I couldn’t take that long of a break.”

He was met with silence.

“Would you like to spar, your Majesty?”

_Very_ surprisingly, the Fire Lord did not answer. He stared back at Chen for a moment, expression so carefully blank, before turning and leaving the courtyard, just as fast as he’d appeared.

Hopefully, pulling that wouldn’t get him fired.

And, so long as he didn’t show up for duty, Captain Izumi might not even notice he’d deliberately ignored doctor’s orders in an attempt to cheer up the Fire Lord.

(Captain Izumi had already noticed. Chen got two weeks of KP and almost cried from relief when he was put back on normal duties.)

Fire Lord Zuko was the best ruler the Fire Nation had ever seen. Chen had ample evidence to prove it, and argued the point extensively through letters with Ahmya, especially once she found out about what he deemed the Incident.

Chen would gladly give his life in the saving of Zuko's -- he only hoped that wouldn’t have to happen for a long while.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, armed lunatics stormed the capital in support of Trump yesterday.
> 
> I can't really say I'm surprised.
> 
> I hope everyone is well, and I hope y'all liked this chapter!! Lemme know what you thought, and especially if you saw any mistakes (grammar, spelling, weird phrases), I didn't have much time to edit it.
> 
> Stay safe and stay healthy!!


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